Words, Not Weapons
by Scarabbug
Summary: She reaches out, fingers splayed, to touch the cold glass of the tank, and imagines she can see him smiling, even though she isn’t sure whether he’s capable of it. Him being a giant head in a tank, and all. A one shot, feat. Amy Pond and the Face of Boe.


** Amy hasn't appeared in the series yet, so I'm somewhat guessing at her characterisation, using what little info I could gleam from the trailers. It's probably not a perfect representation, and may have to be edited in future to better fit her. For now, I'm looking forwards to the Eleventh Doctor's first appearance.**

Words, Not Weapons. 

She reaches out, fingers splayed, to touch the cold glass of the tank, and imagines she can see him smiling, even though she isn't sure whether he's capable of that, or if his species even smile at all. Him being a giant head in a tank, and all. Remembering this (how had she even _forgotten_?) makes her flinch, until she remembers that she's exchanged threats, laughter, and kind words with far more peculiar beings.

'_Miss Amy Pond_.' The voice is not a voice at all. It flickers and tingles somewhere behind her jawbone.

'...You know my name?'

'_Of course. We've met before_.'

Ah. Right. The Doctor has explained about things like this. By most people's standards, he doesn't explain things very well, and he has one hell of a flair for the dramatic, but Amy grasps his meanings as easily as she understands the voice tingling inside her brain. 'Not yet we haven't'

'_Soon, then. I shall be younger_.' The Face sounds... not wistful, exactly, but almost _amused_. And that makes sense, Amy supposes, because she remembers laughing at photographs of her younger self, with dress-up clothes, ice cream smears, and a lopsided grin. How silly she had been, how free...

She takes a deep breath, pulls herself back to the present via the feeling of cool glass against her fingers, the smiling, time-worn eyes before her. It's strange and humbling, being in the presence of something –someone– so incredibly old, and Amy is unafraid. She _trusts_ this creature almost instinctively. 'I'm looking for the Doctor.'

'_That is fortunate. So am I. But perhaps neither of us need try. He has a way of finding those he leaves, whether he wishes to or not. They seek him out, track him down. The Doctor who sows chaos in his wake._'

Amy blinks. 'What do you mean?'

'_I remember them all, Amy Pond. A girl with time in her eyes, a woman and her child, a hero without memory... There is a man with a cut on his face... I remember him..._' the Face says, and none of this seems like an answer to her question, so much as a random tangent of semi-coherent thoughts that the face is voicing aloud. Or in her mind. Or... whatever. It's an old-person thing, apparently. '_Once, we were called his weapons_, _but this was wrong. We were weapons long before he came to be. Always know this._'

Amy doesn't understand, and she frowns, promising herself that later on, she will make the Doctor explain all of this to her in great detail, already knowing in her heart that this is a promise she won't (can't) keep.

The Face seems to notice her confusion, chuckling. '_Ah. Be patient with me, Amy Pond. Become as old as I and you'll understand my forgetfulness. There are many things to forget_.'

But Amy can't imagine ever being _this_ old. Not once in all her dreams of time and space could there ever have been something quite like this. A place buried far beneath the earth, cold, dark, and sterile, with a living face as old as the universe, and the Doctor waiting for her somewhere in the shadows. 'I need to find him...'

'_Then we will. But you shouldn't be afraid. Always running... yet in the end he always returns_. _He's like that_.'

'I'm not afraid,' Amy says, and she means it. 'I'll follow him. I'll follow him to the ends of the universe if I have to.'

This time, the Face really _does_ smile at her. There is something strange about the smile, something sad. She can't think of any way to question it, so she doesn't. She simply smiles back, and begins searching around in the darkness, for something she can use to pry the lock away from the door keeping them trapped here.


End file.
